Nor pointed fpear, nor links of steel,
Could e'er thofe gallant minds fubdue,
Who beauty's wounds with pleasure feel,
And boast the fetters wrought by you.
SONG IV. The SKY-LARK.

O, tuneful bird, that glad'ft the skies,

G To Daphne's window speed thy way;

And there on quivering pinions rife,
And there thy vocal art display,

And if the deign thy notes to hear,
And if the praife thy matin fong,
Tell her the founds that foothe her ear,
To Damon's native plains belong.

Tell her, in livelier plumes array'd,

The bird from Indian groves may shine;

But ask the lovely partial maid,

What are his notes compar'd to thine ? Then bid her treat yon witless beau, And all his flaunting race with scorn;

And lend an ear to Damon's woe,

Who fings her praise, and fings forlorn.
SONG

V.

Ah! ego non aliter triftes evincere morbos
Optarim, quam te fic quoque velle putem.
N every tree, in every plain,

ΟΝ

I trace the jovial spring in vain!
A fickly languor veils mine eyes,
And faft my waning vigor flies.

Nor

Nor flow'ry plain, nor budding tree,
That fmile on others, fmile on me;
Mine eyes from death fhall court repose,
Nor fhed a tear before they close.
What blifs to me can seasons bring?
Or what, the needlefs pride of fpring?
The cyprefs bough, that suits the bier,
Retains its verdure all the year.

'Tis true, my vine fo fresh and fair,
Might claim awhile my wonted care;
My rural ftore fome pleasure yield;
So white a flock, fo green a field!
My friends, that each in kindness vie,
Might well expect one parting figh;
Might well demand one tender tear;
For when was Damon unfincere ?

But ere I afk once more to view
Yon fetting fun his race renew,

Inform me, fwains; my friends, declare,
Will pitying Delia join the prayer?

SONG VI. The Attribute of VENUS.

Y

ES; Fulvia is like Venus fair;

Has all her bloom, and shape and air :

But ftill, to perfect every grace,

She wants the fmile

The crown majestic Juno wore;
And Cynthia's brow the crefcent bore,
An helmet mark'd Minerva's mien,
But fmiles diftinguifh'd Beauty's queen.

Her

Her train was form'd of fmiles of loves
Her chariot drawn by gentleft doves;
And from her zone, the nymph may find,
'Tis Beauty's province to be kind.

Then fmile, my fair; and all whose aim
Afpires to paint the Cyprian dame,

Or bid her breathe in living stone,

Shall take their forms from you alone.

The Rape of the TRAP, a BALLAD; written at College, 1736. By the Same.

WAS in a land of learning,

'T"

The Mufe's favourite station,

Such pranks, of late,

Were play'd by a rat,

All in a college-study,

Where books were in great plenty,

This rat would devour

More fenfe, in an hour,

Than I could write in twenty.

His breakfaft, half the morning,

He conftantly attended;

And, when the bell

For evening-fong,

rung

His dinner fcarce was ended.

Huge

Huge tomes of geo-graphy,

And maps lay all in flutter;

A river or a fea

Was to him a dish of tea,

And a kingdom-bread and butter.

Such havoc, fpoil, and rapine,
With grief my Muse rehearses;

How freely he would dine
On fome bulky school-divine,
And for defert-eat verses.

He spar'd not ev'n heroics,

On which we poets pride us :

And would make no more

Of King Arthurs, by the score,

Than-all the world befide does.

Was bought, you need not doubt on't;

And fuch was the gin,

Were a lion once in,

He could not, I think, get out on't.

With cheese, not books, 'twas baited;

The fact, I'll not bely it;
Since none, I tell ye that,

Whether fcholar or rat,

Minds books, when he has other diet.